Primal: London Mob Book Two by Michelle St. James Page A

Farrell take over her body. The price she paid for the pleasure he would give her later. She pressed her thighs together to kill the heat burning there. It only made things worse, and she tried to force her breathing even as he lifted his hands, unfastened the front clasp of the bra. He pushed it off her shoulders, and she closed her eyes as his gaze swept her body. She was on fire, dying for his touch. She suppressed a whimper, not ready to give him the satisfaction when it would soon become apparent how totally she was at his mercy.
    He stepped back, slipped his hands into the ivory panties and slid them off her body. His face was inches from her pussy. She could almost feel his mouth on her, feel his tongue working her clit. She drew in a breath, trying not to think about it.
    When she was naked, he stood, stepped back, paced in front of her like he wasn’t sure what to do next. She felt exposed in the best and worst of ways. She wasn’t embarrassed; he knew her body better than she did. He would see the taut nipples, the flush on her chest, maybe even the moisture clinging to the smooth lips of her pussy. He knew she wanted him, and the bulge in his pants left no doubt that the feeling was mutual.
    It was always hard to be still when she was naked under his searching gaze, but she did it anyway. This was part of the game. She had made him wait for her. Had made him go without her for three long months. Now she was the one who would wait.
    “What do you want?” he finally said, his voice gruff as he looked at her.
    She swallowed. “You. I want you, Farrell.”
    “You want my cock.” There was a bite to his words, and she knew he was still hurting from her abandonment.
    She met his eyes. “No, I want you. All of you.”
    “For how long?” he asked. “How long this time before you leave me again?”
    She wouldn’t lie to him. That’s not what they did. “I don’t know. I only know that I want you. That I’ve never stopped wanting you. That I never will.”
    He closed the distance between them in two long paces, slid his hands into the hair at the back of her head and claimed her mouth with the kind of force that stole her breath. There was no time to wonder if she’d said the right thing. No time to think about anything except his tongue pillaging, his teeth nibbling at her lower lip, the brush of his shirt against her nipples, the scratch of his trousers against the already aroused mound between her legs.
    She twined her arms around his neck. He lifted her off the ground in one movement, and she wrapped her legs around him, pressing her center against his bulging cock until he groaned in her mouth.
    He threw her on the bed, not at all gently, and she propped herself up on her elbows, watching as he unbuckled his belt, freed his cock from the constraint of his pants. A fresh wave of heat wound its way to her center. His cock was as glorious as the rest of him.
    Massive. Hard. Wide. Perfect.
    He advanced on the bed, spreading her legs unceremoniously and positioning himself between them. He grabbed her arms, lifted them over her head, held them in place with one of his big hands as he gazed down at her.
    He didn’t say anything, just looked into her eyes, marking her as surely as if he’d lain a red hot brand on her skin. She squirmed under him. The desire to spread her legs, to nestle him in the cleft at the top of her thighs was instinctual.
    “Don’t move, Jenna,” he said gruffly. “Don’t. You. Move.”
    She forced herself to be still as he lowered his head to her neck, leaving tiny kisses behind her ear, nibbling the lobe on his way down to her collarbone. His free hand wrapped around one breast, pinching the nipple as his mouth worked its way toward the sensitive peak of the other one. She was rendered almost immobile by the press of his body, the position of her hands over her head, but her hips tried to move of their own accord anyway.
    He took her nipple in his mouth, and she gasped, arching